Author: bell.esque PM
SasuSaku for copecetic. She'd trade in anything for him, even if she got nothing in return.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Angst - Sakura H. & Sasuke U. - Words: 1,669 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 7 - Published: 12-30-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3978662
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Dedication: To dooziii, or EJ, who is just amazingly sweet and one of the nicest people in the world. EJ, you're so extraordinary, and you always make me smile. It's some blessing that you have. Merry late Christmas, happy eighteenth birthday, and I wish you a great year for 2008. :) You've been working so hard this month, yet for some reason, you still manage to pull through and write something for everyone. You are simply amazing. I love you. ♥ This might just be disappointing because I've written fluff for the other two before this. I'm sorry if it's bad. DX EJ, you deserve so much, because you are such a kind person.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
("Perfect can never happen. There is no such thing as a utopian society."
She sees him, in his dark haired, dark eyed glory, and it is not a surprise that she falls in love with him, like almost every other girl that has laid their eyes on him.
("A small child like her would not know love. It is not a feeling that has developed in their minds yet.")
He is swinging on a tire attached to a tree, and she doesn't think it is good enough for him. He is an Uchiha, he can buy a golden tire if he wanted to. But he likes the simpler things, and his mind is still carefree and young. He can smilelaughfeel like a normal child.
("It didn't last long, did it?")
Suddenly, looking into her small, pale hands at the wreath of pink flowers, she feels nervous. She fidgets and she's shy again. No, no, NO, not again. This was her chance! Why couldn't she do it?
("She's afraid of him. She should be.")
She taps his shoulder, and he looks up and smiles a smile that later on became probably one of the most precious memories she's ever had.
("He doesn't do it much anymore. You know, the smiling thing?")
Her lips curve up feebly, and her knees are buckling, but she will not give away yet. She gives him the flowers, which he stares at strangely before laughing a little bit. She blushes and flushes a great shade of red, but she is happy, and he is happy, and at the moment, that's all that matters.
("It's too bad that it was the beginning of their relationship, yet the end of both their happiness.")
She promised that she would do anything for this boy. Anything.Everything. She would protect him forever, until she couldn't anymore.
("She traded her strong friendship for an unrequited love.")
Her promise was broken the next day when she failed to protect him from the horrorsshocksscars of the Uchiha massacre.
("I'm an avenger, and you will never be able to understand.")
("She looks down upon those that are considered stupid, yet they could be the best people in the world. She is blind.")
This time she holds no fancy gifts or material things. Only herself and her soul, and everyone wonders why she does this, when obviously she is not strong enough to do anything yet. But she loves him.
("If she was so sure what love was, she would have seen that somebody loved her while she chased another hopelessly.")
Her smiles are fakeunrealflirtatious and he hates how everything has been washed away. How she has been brainwashed, how she does not know how to rank her priorities anymore.
("She does not know reality, she dreams the impossible, she does not try to fulfill.")
When they—her boys—are hurt, she hurts. It's painful, how can she watch? So she kicks and throws and bites and screams until she can do no more.
("She's gaining something, independence, understanding, insight. She can see.")
He saves her in the end, in a way so hideous that she can't even watch anymore. She knows what she wants, and it is not her hair or her looks. It is unrelated to those two.
("All I want is for you to accept me. You're acceptance is everything. Then, I will be happy.")
She hugs him, tightly, tightly, never to let go. She doesn't want to, he doesn't stop her. They stand there, they collapse. Together, her pink, shiny, glossy, cut hair all around them in scattered patterns. They spin together, and the wind blows them off somewhere.
("Things went wrong again.")
He left, his breath right on her neck seconds before. She couldn't believe it, because after everything, after all her yearningdreamingloving, he still leaves. He does not turn back to spare another glance at Konoha, at her.
("She traded in her long hair for his departure.")
The leaves crinkle and snap as he takes his silent steps forward, determined and powered by hatred. She continues to sleep on the icy bench, her heart beating with agony, her tears dripping from her glassy eyes out of love.
("He is taller, has more defined features, sharper eyes, thinner lips, stronger body.")
She looks right past him, because she does not want to see him again. She does not want to feel more pain from him. She does not want to try to love him again. She is scared of him, because he is the monster that crushed her heart in mere minutes. He is the one that did not care then, and it was most likely the same case now.
("He tries to apologize, and she tries to forgive, but time has changed things, and everything is thought out thoroughly now.")
But now, when she sees him again, beaten and scarred and bleeding, she has to save him, to heal him, to let him live again. So when she visits his bedside, she does not bring apples, because she has already made that mistake before. She brings flowers, pink flowers, and she hopes he'll remember something.
("Their childhood, their past, their foundation.")
She doesn't bring them in a vase, but she weaves them again, with her delicate hands and pursed lips, she sits under the sun to string them together, sweat rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto yellow-green grass blades.
("She knows she's fallen hopelessly in love with him again, so she doesn't try to resist.")
When she gets back to the room, excited and hopeful, she places the flowers on the table beside him. He gives them a glance before nodding in thanks, showing no sign of even remembering where it was from.
("She traded in her resistance for his survival.")
She sighs lightly, barely audible, and begins to walk out the door. She stops when he calls—states her name, but she does not turn around. His next words cause her to stiffen and freeze, her heart pierced with distress. She is upset, because he is not considerate, but he is blunt, sharp, and rude.
("Why didn't you just bring a vase for these flowers? It would've been nicer.")
("She is back at square one.")
She is broken, just a shell of her former self. She is not what anyone wanted, wants, or will want her to be. She does not do anything but stand in the rain that day, the whole day, waitinghopingdreaming that he will come back to her.
("It's pathetic, we all know he's dead.")
She doesn't mind that she's been treated horribly by him majority of her life. She just does not like to be alone. But she is, because herbrother, her teachers, her love. They are all dead.
("They are the ones that kept her up.")
She remembers the flowers again, and she threads them together. They arebluewhiteredblack roses, now, and she lays them by the grave. She sits down on the muddy floor, and she looks absolutely pathetic. She is pitiful. But she does not care, because there is nobody that matters anymore. He is dead. And he will be the last to die before her.
("She traded in her soul for nothing.")
She falls over, and she does not crack her eyes open again.
("I love you.")